


Sepia Days Through Rose Tinted Monacles

by Honey_Rae_Pluto



Series: Short stories [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Deacury, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Love, M/M, Maylor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Rae_Pluto/pseuds/Honey_Rae_Pluto
Summary: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS/ HIGHSCHOOL AUWhat happens when they've lived on the same street for years? When they've gone to the same primary and highschool and are now facing the reality of relationships and love while trying to be friends first and foremost?(This is the original verse)
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Freddie Mercury
Series: Short stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979563
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	1. Start of A New Term

First day back after a long summer. God the school was awful.

Roger hadn't even seen the others during the warm holiday months - his mum had pulled him away to relatives in Cornwall so he'd spent most of July trying to ignore screaming younger cousins and whining into the group chat.

The others had been in similar positions. From what he could tell Freddie was in India - it wasn't clear what he was doing, all he mentioned was his make up simply 'melting' in the heat. That and texting at early hours complaining about insects.

John had stayed, just about the only one that had. Other than picking up a Saturday job he didn't appear to have done anything constructive. But it's hard to tell with John.

Brian on the other hand had been dragged on a road trip. Which initially - to the other three at least - sounded fun. But staying in a rusty caravan with no internet access or running water loses its charm quickly. He seemed to pop into the group chat once a week to remind them he was still alive, then disappear again.

So all in all a miserable summer.

In that respect Roger was glad to be back, he'd be able to annoy them face to face now. Not that he could find them. It was ten to nine, John should be somewhere and Brian would definitely be around (he sort of assumed Fred would swan in at around half past wondering what the problem was when he inevitably got yelled at by the teachers).

The blond turned into the new locker corridor - they were on the upper floors so weren't as badly kicked in now they were older. 

"Deaky?" He found him with what must've been a new kid, seeing John’s forehead had a decent scab on it. "Twatted yourself already then?"

"Moped decided I should, yeah," John smiled, turning to let him in, "Mum swears if I still have a mark when the photos happen I'm dead."

"Classic Lilian." Roger snorted, turning to look at the tall bloke, "You're new then?"

"Eh, no?" He squinted. He was hunched over himself, trying to match the others heights and subsequently obscuring his face behind what was now shoulder length hair. "Rog you've known me for years."

"Bloody Nora. Bri?" Roger couldn't help but laugh, "Someone stretched you out?"

"Not the funniest thing in the world, but yes." He answered dryly.

"Is the air thinner up there?"

"Really?"

"Oh yes. One hundred percent yes." Roger grinned, poking his chest, "You're never going to hear the end of this."

"Brilliant," Brian huffed, swatting his hand away. “Can we get to class now?”

Their first class was together, English. They didn’t have many classes together now, getting more specialised in their sciences and arts, but English and Music remained a class they had always had together.

“Have you done the reading?” John asked, “I’ve not done any notes on them yet, but I figured it didn’t matter much.”

“There was reading?”

“So that means you haven’t then,” Brian rolled his eyes, “I didn’t get the email until Friday, had to cramp everything over the weekend.”

“Or you could’ve just not,” Roger suggested, “You know these things aren’t that important, we probably won’t even be doing them in class for months. Anyway, the summer is to be enjoyed - it’s a travesty of justice to make us work during it.”

“How was cornwall?” John looked at him as they made their way in, leaving a seat empty for whenever Freddie decided to join them, “Enjoyed your summer, as you said?”

“Fuck no,” he shook his head quickly, “I hate everyone under the age of twelve and over the age of forty. Can I borrow a pen?”

“No,” Brian wasn’t letting him lose any of the new stationary set on day one, “At least you didn’t have to spend all summer with a pair of middle class aging hippies.”

“I forget how different you are to them, by all rights you should have a joint to match the hair.”

“Oh finally someone’s mentioned it,” Roger swiped a pen off him anyway, poking his curls with it, “You look like a poodle.”

“Oh my he really does, darling,” Freddie appeared then, having in no way apologised to the teacher for being late, “You look like Jimi Hendrix. Brimi Hendrix.”  
“Thanks?” Brian squinted, “I think.”

“It is a compliment,” Freddie assured him, taking the pen Roger had stolen to use himself, “Is there a start of year sesh?”

“There’s a dance- are you not in the big group chat with the rest of the year?”

“No, no, darling; I was kicked off for starting shit with the fuckboys. They’re so easy to wind up, I simply couldn’t help myself.”

Brian huffed, failing an attempt to get his pens back, “It’s meant to be a formal event, everyone has to go with a partner.”

“I’ll go with my dearest,” Freddie winked at John, “Wouldn’t have it any other way-”

“Can we have silence to start the lesson please?” The teacher cut their conversation short.

Roger sat slouching in his seat. Of course they would go together, it wasn’t that he didn’t like their relationship. Far from it, he was happy for them. But it didn’t half leave him feeling like shit about being single.

Him and Brian liked each other, that was obvious enough to everyone other than them, but clearly they were destined to circle around the main problem for the rest of their lives.

***

"Who the fuck took turkey twislers of the fucking meals?" Roger prodded angrily at his chips. It had been a week since the start of term and they were starting to settle back into life at school.

“Jamie Oliver, I think.”

"What am I supposed to eat? Bloody salad? Like a goat or squirrel or Brian?"

"Goats and squirrels don't eat salad," Brian gave him a dry look, "And it's good for you, you eat enough sugar as it is."

"God sake, you sound like my grandmother." Roger huffed. "It's no use. I'll just starve."

"He says like a war hero, despite having eaten half a leftover pizza for breakfast as well as a bowl of cereal," John said.

"Someone's just grumpy cause no one's asked him to the dance," Freddie pinched his cheek, "It's adorable. He's really pissy about it."

“Easy for you to mock, you have a boyfriend.”

Brian felt the hard kick to his shin. Freddie knew he had planned on asking Roger to it, but bailed every single time, but he sure as hell wasn't going to do it here. If at all; Roger would for sure say no, it would make their friendship too awkward.

The dance wasn’t even an important one, a beginning of the year thing that was more of a piss up that anything formal. But still, he should’ve been able to ask the younger man without feeling sick.

“I better go,” the tallest of them excused himself, “Driving lesson.”

“Haven’t you already had one this week?”

“I’m trying to pass my test before Christmas,” Brian explained, “Hopefully so I’m not worrying about it during the exams.”

“We have to do a roadtrip then, Easter holidays,” Roger decided, mood improving marginally, “We can do the 500.”

“A dreadful idea with horrific planning. I’m in.” Freddie nodded.

Brian just shook his head, they’d forget about it by the time he was back. Still, it seemed to have defused the dance situation. He really needed to get Roger alone at some point to ask.

***

"Sometimes I wish I could fall asleep and never wake up."

"Brian it's eleven in the morning." Roger gave him a sharp look, "And it's a Saturday, be happy."

"Oh well when you say it like that I'll be ecstatic." Brian met his eyes with a withering glance, "Don't you have a home to go to?"

"Mum's painting the house and it stinks so no," Roger sighed, trying to pull the covers off of Brian again. He'd arrived ten minutes ago (Brian's mum had just let him in) to find Brian still asleep. "It's still eleven. Actually it's quarter past. Get up."

"No."

"I'll fucking make you get up," he lounged out on top of him, squashing him a little underneath. "What time did you even get to sleep?"

"Ages ago, like quarter to nine."

"Pm?"

Brian gave him a dry laugh, clearly not. He shifted along a bit so he wasn't completely trapped, "I don't mind you being here, just don't be an arse."

"I'll not. Go back to sleep, I've got your WiFi and I'll still be here when you wake up." Roger relented, letting him have some breathing room, “But you’re not sleeping later than one.”

“I’ll get up now, I’m awake enough,” Brian shook his head, “Did Marc ask you to the dance?”

“Yes. Does it matter?”

Fuck. Brian groaned internally, so much for that. He wasn’t going to go then, he didn’t want to see them together, and there was no use asking anyone else. “No, not at all.”

So Brian didn’t care then. Roger sighed, no use making him jealous, he was going to have to suffer through that dance alone.

“I didn’t say yes. Not that you care.”


	2. The Start Of A New Love

“What if I eh…” Brian looked at his thumbs. This wasn’t the place to ask him, sitting in his bedroom still half asleep, pyjama shirt he’d spilt toothpaste on and hair going in all directions. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, no tell me,” Roger poked his hand, “What are you thinking?”

“It’s silly.”

“Brian, you’re not a girl in an American film twirling your hair and giggling. Spill.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brian told him more surely - he wasn’t going to ask now, maybe if he could find a way later, maybe get him alone again. That’s if fucking mark didn’t get in the way and ask again. “I’ll get some sleep like you said.”

“No, it’s nearly lunch anyway.” Roger shook his head, “What were you about to ask?”

“Not telling,” Brian turned away from him, pulling the duvet up over his head. There was a suspicious silence for a moment before he found himself completely winded, “Roger!”

“Tell me,” the blond was tugging at the covers, trying to get at him, “Brian stop struggling.”

“You attacked me,” came the muffled reply, long limbs trying to curl up into a ball under the assailant, “I’m definitely not telling you now.”

“Bri so help me,” Roger thought for a moment, how best to get him to ask? By now he was sure it was an invitation to go with him to the dance - it had to be.   
“Brian…”

“What?” He lowered the blankets only minutely, but regretted it as soon as he had, Roger’s hands now on him. “Fuck off, will you?”

“Tell me or you get tickled,” Roger threatened, face dead straight, “I mean it… Three…”

“No.”

“Two…”

“Go away Rog.”

“One…”

“Fuck off - ah!” Brian squirmed away from him, trying to get onto the floor and away from the hands. “Roger!”

“Come on Brimi, you know you want to tell me,” Roger landed on him on the floor, letting the taller man turn onto his back, pinning his arms, “Tell me.”

“Fine, alright, alright. Bloody hell,” Brian caught his breath. This was still nowhere near how he’d wanted to ask, “I was just wondering if you’d want to go to the dance… Just if you want to, we don’t have to, if someone else asks you that’s fine, and don’t feel obligated to say anything just cause I asked, you won’t hurt my feelin-”

“Yes.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure someone will go with y- what?”

“I said yes, twat,” Roger let go of his wrists, still straddling him, “I’ll go to the dance with you.”

“Why did you say yes to me but not to him?” Brian looked at him wide eyed.

“I eh…” Yes. Yes he did like Brian, even if he was a gobshite at the best of times, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to admit that. Not now, not ever. “I just prefer to go with a friend.”

“Alright, sheesh,” Brian felt that like a punch. Friend. Just a friend. “Do you want lunch?”

“Sure,” He knew he’d made it awkward now, but what more could he say exactly? He could tell him he had a crush, couldn’t exactly leave without making Brian feel like he was in a bad mood - which naturally Brian would take as him having taken pity on him, which would make them more awkward.

So yeah. A whole arsed situation.

He followed Brian downstairs - his parents house was very boho, coloured drapes and stain glass windows, whole walls of plants and shelves full of vinyls, books on plant potions and druid history decorating a chunk of tree trunk that made up a coffee table in front of the long hammock they used as a sofa.

Two deeply hippy parents with a very scientifically minded and stubborn son.

“We’ve got cress growing if you want some fresh loaf sandwiches?” Brian shifted some half made dream catchers off of the table - his mum sold them online along with a bunch of other things.

“Uh, yeah,” Roger let him make up the things, “Is that a plant then?”

“What did you think it was?”

“No, like I knew it was a plant, but I wasn’t expecting it to be a pot plant,” Roger nodded to the empty egg carton full of green leaved cress, “Do you still have the cactus rats?”

“Hedgehogs.”

“Cactus rats.” Roger repeated, watching Brian potter around, “Can I see them? Please? Pretty please?”

“Yeah, let me just make these - they’re out in a hutch in the garden,” Brian handed him his plate, vegan cheese and cress (kind of things Brian’s house had, never any meat of grease or anything Roger thought of as fun), quickly making up his own, grabbing a big glass bottle of lemonade out the fridge, “They got a bit big for the cage. We’re letting them go into the woods once they reach three months, find something else out of the home to look after.”

Roger knew the May house well enough - they’d always been neighbours and the four of them were always at someones house, but the garden seemed to change every time he visited. Now it looked more like a scene from Alice in wonderland, arches and bright flowers everywhere, streamers and chimes blowing gently in the wind as Brian led him to the swing, dropping off the food to go find the animals.

“You can stay round that night it you want,” Brian told him, coming back with two handfuls of fluffy wriggling things, “When we set them free, you can stay - mum and dad aren’t going to be here; there's a wiccan festival in Dorset, but I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’d like that,” Roger smiled, taking one of the creatures off him, “I’d have to check to see when I’m going to visit my dad - I’m doing driving lessons with him too, but I think it’d be fun.”

“It’s always fun to spend time with you,” Brian told him, “You’re my friend, my best friend.”

Roger nodded. Friend.

Fuck sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not a massive chapter, but I hope you'll enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

"How have you never been to the Tait?" Freddie asked, hauling John along behind him, "It's world famous."

"It's an art museum, Fred, I literally don't care." John shrugged, "What's in here you want so badly? Mona Lisa?'

"That's the Louvre," Freddie corrected, "There was a man in an asylum in the late Victorian era-"

"Have I missed a bit of the conversation?"

"Shhh, anyway so he was going mad, but he spent the last twelve years of his life trying to finish a painting, a massive fairy painting - the most famous of its kind. It's not even finished."

"Freddie you're not really selling it to me," John replied. He was only here cause the other two - normally it's one of them that goes along with this - bailed. This wasn't interesting for him, he couldn't see how Freddie was so excited over it. But he wasn't going to stop the man.

"Just look, it hallowe’en; humour me." he tugged him the rest of the way down the hall, stopping in front of a large dark canvas.

John's first impression was that it was too busy to be pleasant to the eye - weird pale goblin like faces and layers of green vines and too much overwhelming action. 

But then he caught Freddie's face.

Perhaps some things made sense.

"Richard Dadd. The guy who painted it, this is his madness, John."

"What's it called?"

"Fairy feller's master stroke."

***

2008

The four of them were going to camp out that night, a brand new tent pitched up in John's mum's garden, already filled with pillows and duvets and their Nintendo Ds fully charged inside along with the games.

Everything seven year olds could possibly want.

But at that exact moment, they were dressed up at their Halloween disco. Freddie had decided he was a witch, going exactly as he wanted despite the others reservations. He wanted to be just like Mildred the worst witch, and no one would tell him otherwise.

Roger similarly had gone rogue, begging his mum to help him paint whiskers on to transform into a black cat.

Brian's parents had bought him a plastic scythe the year before, but he'd not been able to go to the disco due to a bug, so this was his attempt to claim his place as the grim reaper. Not that he dared leer by the elderly librarian like Fred had suggested.

It was hard to tell exactly what John was, he had devil horns and plastic vampire teeth, and face paint cobwebs covering his cheek.

Sort of Halloween all at once.

"Brian come on," Roger was tugging him away from the juice table, "I promise they come off, it's not really a tattoo."

"But what if it doesn't? Dad'll kill me."

"No he won't, we'll get a matching set," Roger insisted, "You get the Joker, I'll get Spiderman.'

"Is that a matching set?"

"Definitely."

John rolled his eyes as he passed them, at least Roger had stopped screaming after the haunted house. Well, haunted canteen cupboard where they folded away the tables, teachers badly dressed up as Frankenstein (the monster, Brian had reminded them umpteen times, not Frankenstein) and baked beans as goo in the scary boxes. John was less bothered by it, he could see the wires behind the cheap moving decorations, and some of the haunted inhabitants had already left to continue their extramarital affair that all of their pupils knew about.

It was still fun though. He couldn’t pinpoint it, the energy in the room, having fun with the others, feeling like these nights would never end, but knowing they would. 

He looked around for Freddie, seeing him rush out of the hall, welding two small glow sticks as swords, trying to catch his breath.

"What happened to you?"

"It's really hard to leave a conga, did you know? Even if you let go, you just start an enemy conga to fight the first." Freddie told him, "I had to fight my way out."

"Should we go get the others?" John glanced at them, seeing the school receptionist pat down Roger's arm with a damn cloth, "Party's nearly over."

"Not over until they play 'I got a feeling'." Freddie pointed out, sounding very sure as he paid his fifty pence for a fruit shoot, "Your mum still taking us round people's houses for sweets?"

"Yeah," John nodded, "But only if we promise to go straight to bed when we get in."

"Straight to tent."

Brian looked up from his now DC comics adorned wrist, "Don't ever let Roger talk me into anything ever again."

It was too late for Roger to come up with an argument, the DJ (depressed music teacher who’s classroom always smelt of strong stale coffee but even stronger and fresher mid life crisis) had put on black eyed peas and they weren't going to miss out on it.

2018

“Has that just been sitting in your attic for the last ten years?” Roger stopped walking as they reached the clearing, eyeing the younger man as John brought out the old orange tent, already patched up with duct tape and colour faded where the poles wore through.

“Dad took me out a few times after, but you know, so it hasn't just been sitting,” John didn’t look up, quickly throwing Brian the poles, “Still, it’ll hold up fine. Though it’d be fun, you know?”

“I’m sure it will be,” Brian nodded, picking up the equipment he’d failed to catch, “It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do at the moment.”

“No, not at all, darling,” Freddie patted his shoulder, “All alone in the woods on Halloween. It's perfect."

"Right," Roger shrugged, one night out in the woods? Sure. They couldn't possibly get murdered. "Are we doing this properly?"

"Course, me and John brought the stove, enough food for dinner and breakfast tomorrow, an axe for firewood." Brian listed things off, "And we've downloaded some horror films for the iPad."

"More importantly," Freddie opened his own bag, "Booze. Vodka, rum, schnapps, absinthe-"

"None of us like absinthe," Roger raised an eyebrow, "No one likes it."

"It'll get the fire going though.'

"That's Freddie off of fire duty." John gave his boyfriend a dry look, “And if you try to scare me in the middle of the night I swear to God I’ll kick the bejesus out of you.”

Carefully Brian and John (with no help but a running commentary) got the tent up, working in the fire shelter as Freddie got the inside ready.

"Rog, dear, come in and help," he signalled the blond in, "So there's duvets and sleeping bags, fairy lights, and loads of cushions. It's glamping even if they say it's not."

"I never doubted that," Roger smiled, "I eh, I brought a ouija board, cards against humanity too. Thought it'd be a laugh."

"God help us." Brian rolled his eyes, stepping in too, “Star should be bright tonight, all the constellations out there.”

“Between you and your space dust, and him and his art of madness, it’s like being in a pinterest mood board,” Roger smiled, “I don’t suppose there's a tile for Deaky’s 80’s baggy shirt ascetic or my car knowledge?”

“Car knowledge?” Freddie raised an eyebrow, “You drive a Ford Ka and yell at caravans.”

“How was having a mental breakdown after stalling eight times in a row?” Roger got up, half crouched still inside the tent, making his way over to Freddie.

“Come here then rat bag.” Freddie grinned, meeting him half way, the pair play fighting over it. John smiled, watching Brian complain, managing in no way to escape or stop the fight, holding his arms out to stop thier one of them landing on him.

John watched, Freddie’s polaroid in hand, just snapping the photo as Roger tumbled back onto Brian, pulling Freddie with him. The three started laughing then, the sort of laughter (or in Brian’s rather winded case, wheezing) that ended up silent, jolts of shoulders and weird grunting noises that just spurred on the moment, eyes shut away from it all.

He couldn’t pinpoint it, the energy he felt watching his best friends, his boyfriend. His family. Having fun with the others, feeling like these nights would never end, but knowing they would.

Or maybe they wouldn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, hope everyone enjoyed that.
> 
> There will be more posted as I come up with these sorts of things, probably not in chronological order as this'll jump between them being little kids to them being a bit older, but I hope it makes sense.
> 
> Love to see some feedback, this is just so far some of the drabbles and snippets from my tumblr (Honey-Rae-Pluto) that I post strung together to make a chapter. If you would like to as or request any prompts or anything then head over. There's also a separate dark verse that started a few days earlier, but I'm working on how both of these will develop.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading,  
> Love,  
> Pluto xxx


End file.
